Chessy had noticed the fellows playing poker, when he entered, but had pretended not to and tried not to make eye-contact. He was nervous, because he was new here and there were so many people here. And the guys playing poker looked sorta scary to him. And nervous for other reasons...
Chessy looked up from the ground he´d been staring at, and faced Sydney, when he asked him what brought him to Saltypeak. "Just passing through," Cheshire mumbled and looked away again. He felt uneasy about the new stranger, who´d come through. He looked like someone you wouldn´t want to mess with. And he definitely noticed the gun. The barkeep called Cheshire over and gave him a cup of tea. Cheshire sat down on one of the barstools and drank it. An unusual drink to choose maybe, but it calmed him down and reminded him of home. He was pretty sure the barkeep laughed at him, when he´d asked for it. When Cole mentioned something about howling beasts, Chessy spilt the hot tea over his hand causing him to jump a bit in his seat. "Ow!" He hissed and waved his injured hand. The barkeep didn´t seem to think anything of it and came over to help him clean it up and gave him some ice for his burn.
Chessy looked up from the ground he´d been staring at, and faced Sydney, when he asked him what brought him to Saltypeak. "Just passing through," Cheshire mumbled and looked away again. He felt uneasy about the new stranger, who´d come through. He looked like someone you wouldn´t want to mess with. And he definitely noticed the gun. The barkeep called Cheshire over and gave him a cup of tea. Cheshire sat down on one of the barstools and drank it. An unusual drink to choose maybe, but it calmed him down and reminded him of home. He was pretty sure the barkeep laughed at him, when he´d asked for it. When Cole mentioned something about howling beasts, Chessy spilt the hot tea over his hand causing him to jump a bit in his seat. "Ow!" He hissed and waved his injured hand. The barkeep didn´t seem to think anything of it and came over to help him clean it up and gave him some ice for his burn.
"Doubt it," Frank said to Sydney's question as his gaze followed Chessy over to the bar. "But I ain't been here but a couple days."
At Cole's question, Frank's gaze went back to Bill who had mentioned the howlin' earlier. Maybe there something to this. Part of him actually felt a little excited at the prospect, along with a healthy tickle of fear. "Hmmmm...." he mused. "Maybe the same beast Bill heard? It causing any trouble to anyone?"
The question had barely left his mouth when a thought hit him ... Four Fingered Tim. He'd tracked the man here and then lost him. So there was one missing person at least. Course... it could be nothin' but the same rumor running wild and beginning to spread. Don't let your imagination run away with you Frank, he scolded himself.
"Looks like you won't be short on volunteers, Agent."
At Cole's question, Frank's gaze went back to Bill who had mentioned the howlin' earlier. Maybe there something to this. Part of him actually felt a little excited at the prospect, along with a healthy tickle of fear. "Hmmmm...." he mused. "Maybe the same beast Bill heard? It causing any trouble to anyone?"
The question had barely left his mouth when a thought hit him ... Four Fingered Tim. He'd tracked the man here and then lost him. So there was one missing person at least. Course... it could be nothin' but the same rumor running wild and beginning to spread. Don't let your imagination run away with you Frank, he scolded himself.
"Looks like you won't be short on volunteers, Agent."
“Yeah, looks like it,” Faulkner muses as he folds and shows his hand: two of a kind, a pair of sevens. The going-ons of the saloon are proving to be distracting to his continued participation in the card game.
Sydney looked towards the man in the corner of the room again. Standing there was not making his suspicions any less. With a small gesture of his hand he signaled to the male in the corner.
"Join us or at least pick a table, stranger."
The howling peaked Sydney's interest. The stable hands seemed worried about some beast lurking in the darkness. Could be the same one that Frank was talking about. A beast could prove quite the challenge. Even without being magical in nature.
"The stable hand fellers by the inn were worried about it. May know something," Sydney said to Frank.
Sydney turned his attention back towards the card game. He placed his cards on the table. The marshal had a straight for his cards. A small smirk played on his lips as he turned to the other man who remained in the card game. Sydney nodded his head towards the cards for him to show his hand.
"Where your gunslingers last seen, Agent?"
"Join us or at least pick a table, stranger."
The howling peaked Sydney's interest. The stable hands seemed worried about some beast lurking in the darkness. Could be the same one that Frank was talking about. A beast could prove quite the challenge. Even without being magical in nature.
"The stable hand fellers by the inn were worried about it. May know something," Sydney said to Frank.
Sydney turned his attention back towards the card game. He placed his cards on the table. The marshal had a straight for his cards. A small smirk played on his lips as he turned to the other man who remained in the card game. Sydney nodded his head towards the cards for him to show his hand.
"Where your gunslingers last seen, Agent?"
The saloon's madame, a woman with fire on her tongue and in her soul, rushed up the stairs and began banging on a door. "Sayen! Git yer arse downstairs now! The saloon has got customers!" Going back down once a thud was heard soon the Mapuche woman was dressed as a harlot should.
Making her way downstairs, she painted her face sparsely as per the Madame's instructions. A little kohl to draw attention to her almond eyes and a smearing of stain on her lips. Dressed in green, a color she was told she looked good in, Sayen let her gaze sweep the full saloon. "My, my a full house..."
Muttering under her breath, Sayen went around to every table, picking up snippets of conversation whilst she refilled glasses. Smiling in a way that did not quite reach her eyes she stopped at a table where a game was being played. "Can I offer you gents a refreshment?" Flicking her eyes outside with the howls, knowing the beasts would come a callin', before returning her attention to the table.
((I hope you don't mind me jumping in ^^))
Making her way downstairs, she painted her face sparsely as per the Madame's instructions. A little kohl to draw attention to her almond eyes and a smearing of stain on her lips. Dressed in green, a color she was told she looked good in, Sayen let her gaze sweep the full saloon. "My, my a full house..."
Muttering under her breath, Sayen went around to every table, picking up snippets of conversation whilst she refilled glasses. Smiling in a way that did not quite reach her eyes she stopped at a table where a game was being played. "Can I offer you gents a refreshment?" Flicking her eyes outside with the howls, knowing the beasts would come a callin', before returning her attention to the table.
((I hope you don't mind me jumping in ^^))
Chessy was still tending to his hand and cursing slightly, when Sydney Richards signaled to him and told him to join them. He simply said: "When is it bad luck to see a black cat?" He then turned to his tea and took another, more careful, sip. Someone nearby heard and made a quiet gesture to say that Chessy was crazy or weird. Maybe they would understand what Chessy meant, maybe they wouldn´t. It didn´t matter.
The players continued their conversation about some howling or whatever it was. If Chessy Hunter knew anything, he didn´t say or show. They talked about how people were worried about some beast running amok. "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice," he said quietly, unsure whether they heard it or not. He looked up curiously, when the saloon madame yelled at someone up the stairs. And shortly after a saloon girl came down, dressed as a harlot. She was wearing green, a colour that Chessy liked, and which suited her. Chessy wasn´t distracted for long and soon returned to his tea, seemingly unaffected. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled.
The players continued their conversation about some howling or whatever it was. If Chessy Hunter knew anything, he didn´t say or show. They talked about how people were worried about some beast running amok. "My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice," he said quietly, unsure whether they heard it or not. He looked up curiously, when the saloon madame yelled at someone up the stairs. And shortly after a saloon girl came down, dressed as a harlot. She was wearing green, a colour that Chessy liked, and which suited her. Chessy wasn´t distracted for long and soon returned to his tea, seemingly unaffected. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled.
((Welcome, D3monQu33n!))
Frank's gaze was drawn momentarily to the woman, his relaxed air evaporating a little and the edges of his mouth moving down in a frown.
She was quite eye-catching, made more so by the green dress that flattered her features. A lady’s place ain’t in a saloon, though. Which gave Frank some immediate suspicions that her real job here weren't just refilling whiskey glasses. Though, he'd still treat her like a lady even if he strongly suspected she ain’t one at all.
"I'll have anoth... " he was going to say 'another whiskey', but if there was a chance of meeting this howling monster tonight, a little liquid courage wasn't a bad thing, but he'd better not be too roostered to shoot straight. "How 'bout a sarsaparilla... ma'am?"
He gave another sideways look at Chessy as the odd man seemed to turn down Sydney's invitation, muttering something about black cats. Maybe he was high on opium or something, Frank thought sourly, his opinion of this place having dropped several notches at the appearance of the harlot.
Frank's gaze was drawn momentarily to the woman, his relaxed air evaporating a little and the edges of his mouth moving down in a frown.
She was quite eye-catching, made more so by the green dress that flattered her features. A lady’s place ain’t in a saloon, though. Which gave Frank some immediate suspicions that her real job here weren't just refilling whiskey glasses. Though, he'd still treat her like a lady even if he strongly suspected she ain’t one at all.
"I'll have anoth... " he was going to say 'another whiskey', but if there was a chance of meeting this howling monster tonight, a little liquid courage wasn't a bad thing, but he'd better not be too roostered to shoot straight. "How 'bout a sarsaparilla... ma'am?"
He gave another sideways look at Chessy as the odd man seemed to turn down Sydney's invitation, muttering something about black cats. Maybe he was high on opium or something, Frank thought sourly, his opinion of this place having dropped several notches at the appearance of the harlot.
Faulkner eyes Sayen as she approaches their table, more surprised by her ethnicity than her occupation—after all, the last town he occupied space in had a saloon full of working gals.
“Ah...yeah, I’ll one more for the road,” he announces with a wiggle of his near empty glass. The agent sets his glass aside for the fill up and pulls his attention back to the squirrelly fellow; the agent eyes him as he addresses Sydney:
“Talk to Mister Efferson about his gunslinger—it’s his problem. I’m a bit more interested in this howling beast that’s got folks in a tizzy.”
To Sydney’s benefit, Bill shows his hand: a straight, numbers three through seven.
“Ah...yeah, I’ll one more for the road,” he announces with a wiggle of his near empty glass. The agent sets his glass aside for the fill up and pulls his attention back to the squirrelly fellow; the agent eyes him as he addresses Sydney:
“Talk to Mister Efferson about his gunslinger—it’s his problem. I’m a bit more interested in this howling beast that’s got folks in a tizzy.”
To Sydney’s benefit, Bill shows his hand: a straight, numbers three through seven.
The short, brown-haired woman who walked into the saloon couldn't have been more out of place than one of the dusty cattlemen walking into Buckingham Palace for tea with the queen. Even more surprising than her wide swishing black hoop skirt, flawless white shirtwaist, and the peridot and mother-of-pearl brooch at her neck was the confidence with which she approached the bar, before reaching into her black leather bag to pull out a small bit of paper covered with indecipherable pencil scrawls.
"Good afternoon," she greeted the barkeep in the well-bred tones of the east. "I'm running a bit low on medicine this week. Do you think you could set me up with--" she squinted, then pulled a pair of spectacles out of her bag and slid them in front of her large brown eyes. "Two bottles of whiskey, a bottle of gin, and a bit of red wine? If you have it, of course," she added, replacing the glasses and her list in her bag. "And I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee for myself. Was out most of the night."
Doctor Delacroix, as she preferred to be called (or "Doc Charlie," as the residents of Saltypeak usually addressed her) was too tired most of the time to be considered pretty, what with her drawn cheeks and the dark circles practically tattooed beneath her eyes, but in her opinion doctors didn't need to be pretty, they just needed to be competent. She'd had a hard enough time convincing this one-horse town that a woman could treat gunshot wounds and monster bites as well as a man, but in the end she'd won them over. Sort of. Mostly, she suspected, they just realized that no sane man would brave the dangers of the desert to bother setting up a practice in such an isolated place, so they settled for the woman crazy enough to attempt it.
As she waited for the "prescriptions," as they were, to be filled, her gaze fell upon Sayen, somewhat critically. The doctor often visited the saloon for more than liquor. Back east, Charlotte had seen firsthand the damage that could be done when prostitutes weren't checked regularly for disease, and she had made an arrangement with the madam of the establishment to never charge for the monthly examinations she provided to the girls. The trouble was that whenever one of them did show sign of illness, the old witch never followed Charlotte's instruction to let the poor creature rest and fight off the infection. Best case scenario they got one night off and either whiskey or some backcountry folk remedies, unless the doctor was lucky enough to get her hands on some real medicine.
As far as Charlotte could tell at this distance though, Sayen seemed healthy enough, though if she couldn't scrounge up any business the doctor thought it might be worthwhile to pull her aside and see how things were going. In the meantime though, she could respect the fact that the lady needed to work, and the last thing she wanted to to scare off any potential customers. But then again, there did seem to be an awful lot of strangers in the bar today. Maybe they would just think she was a concerned citizen, rather than a doctor speaking in hushed tones to a woman of ill repute.
Speaking of newcomers, when her coffee came the doctor was rather pleased to see someone else sitting at the bar and at least attempting to maintain some level of sobriety. The man on the next stool over had opted for tea instead of liquor, which in her opinion was the mark of a true gentleman. She couldn't help but notice though a rather nasty burn on the dark-haired fellow's hand. "My, that looks painful," Charlotte murmured to the man, taking her spectacles out of her bag again. "Did that just happen? I have a bit of salve here, do you mind if I take a look?"
"Good afternoon," she greeted the barkeep in the well-bred tones of the east. "I'm running a bit low on medicine this week. Do you think you could set me up with--" she squinted, then pulled a pair of spectacles out of her bag and slid them in front of her large brown eyes. "Two bottles of whiskey, a bottle of gin, and a bit of red wine? If you have it, of course," she added, replacing the glasses and her list in her bag. "And I wouldn't say no to a cup of coffee for myself. Was out most of the night."
Doctor Delacroix, as she preferred to be called (or "Doc Charlie," as the residents of Saltypeak usually addressed her) was too tired most of the time to be considered pretty, what with her drawn cheeks and the dark circles practically tattooed beneath her eyes, but in her opinion doctors didn't need to be pretty, they just needed to be competent. She'd had a hard enough time convincing this one-horse town that a woman could treat gunshot wounds and monster bites as well as a man, but in the end she'd won them over. Sort of. Mostly, she suspected, they just realized that no sane man would brave the dangers of the desert to bother setting up a practice in such an isolated place, so they settled for the woman crazy enough to attempt it.
As she waited for the "prescriptions," as they were, to be filled, her gaze fell upon Sayen, somewhat critically. The doctor often visited the saloon for more than liquor. Back east, Charlotte had seen firsthand the damage that could be done when prostitutes weren't checked regularly for disease, and she had made an arrangement with the madam of the establishment to never charge for the monthly examinations she provided to the girls. The trouble was that whenever one of them did show sign of illness, the old witch never followed Charlotte's instruction to let the poor creature rest and fight off the infection. Best case scenario they got one night off and either whiskey or some backcountry folk remedies, unless the doctor was lucky enough to get her hands on some real medicine.
As far as Charlotte could tell at this distance though, Sayen seemed healthy enough, though if she couldn't scrounge up any business the doctor thought it might be worthwhile to pull her aside and see how things were going. In the meantime though, she could respect the fact that the lady needed to work, and the last thing she wanted to to scare off any potential customers. But then again, there did seem to be an awful lot of strangers in the bar today. Maybe they would just think she was a concerned citizen, rather than a doctor speaking in hushed tones to a woman of ill repute.
Speaking of newcomers, when her coffee came the doctor was rather pleased to see someone else sitting at the bar and at least attempting to maintain some level of sobriety. The man on the next stool over had opted for tea instead of liquor, which in her opinion was the mark of a true gentleman. She couldn't help but notice though a rather nasty burn on the dark-haired fellow's hand. "My, that looks painful," Charlotte murmured to the man, taking her spectacles out of her bag again. "Did that just happen? I have a bit of salve here, do you mind if I take a look?"
Giving a tilt of her head she poured the man in the suit a drink and grabbed the other's glass. "Coming right up sugah..." Heading back to the bar she had a short conversation with the bartender and soon the drink was ready. Grabbing it, her attention was pulled to the woman entering, the doctor.
Sayen respected the woman, medicine was a noble profession. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the woman, Sayen sauntered back to the men playing poker. "One sarsaparilla." Placing it on the table in front of Frank another howl rang out. Closing her eyes, unaware that her head was tilting as she listened.
The howls belonged to wolves but not normal ones, she had heard these howls her entire life. "Skin walkers...." The quiet word she hadn't realized left her mouth as she straightened. Something was wrong, the howls sounded off like the creature was in pain and it was calling to her.
"'Scuse me gents..." Then with a twirl, Sayen walked from the saloon. The minute the doors swung shut behind her, Sayen kicked off the pinching high heels and took off running. If it really was a skin walker that was in trouble, that had ventured this close to a white man's settlement, it must really be hurting.
Running over the dusty ground, her soft footfalls kicking up dirt, Sayen smiled truly. She truly enjoyed running free, giving an excited yell she tore at the clasps binding her hair. Throwing the trinkets down, she continued to run and she only slowed down to listen.
Panting with the exertion, she looked around trying to orient herself when a low growl caught her attention. Lifting her hands she began to coo softly in her native tongue. "Ssssh sacred one.... let me help you...." The dulcet tones of her whispers seemed to soothe the beast and it stopped growling fiercely. Sayen then began to hum a lullaby often sung to the babes in her tribe while she checked over the bipedal wolf.
The creature shut it eyes as it listened while her hands gently shifted through its thick fur. It's ears swiveled to listen to her as she moved around it until she touched the tender spot and it growled. "Don't growl at me.... I'm not the one who stabbed you. This will sting." Then without further warning she grabbed and yanked a thin piece of metal from the creature who yowled with pain.
Growling with ears laid back, it rounded on her and Sayen glared coldly back. "I warned you you know. Now retract your claws or I'll shove it back in your wound..." Backing up slightly, it seemed confused before she shooed it off as she studied the now apparent blade.
((Sorry it's so long, I just kinda went with it. If it's not cool please let me know and I'll edit.))
Sayen respected the woman, medicine was a noble profession. Giving a nod of acknowledgment to the woman, Sayen sauntered back to the men playing poker. "One sarsaparilla." Placing it on the table in front of Frank another howl rang out. Closing her eyes, unaware that her head was tilting as she listened.
The howls belonged to wolves but not normal ones, she had heard these howls her entire life. "Skin walkers...." The quiet word she hadn't realized left her mouth as she straightened. Something was wrong, the howls sounded off like the creature was in pain and it was calling to her.
"'Scuse me gents..." Then with a twirl, Sayen walked from the saloon. The minute the doors swung shut behind her, Sayen kicked off the pinching high heels and took off running. If it really was a skin walker that was in trouble, that had ventured this close to a white man's settlement, it must really be hurting.
Running over the dusty ground, her soft footfalls kicking up dirt, Sayen smiled truly. She truly enjoyed running free, giving an excited yell she tore at the clasps binding her hair. Throwing the trinkets down, she continued to run and she only slowed down to listen.
Panting with the exertion, she looked around trying to orient herself when a low growl caught her attention. Lifting her hands she began to coo softly in her native tongue. "Ssssh sacred one.... let me help you...." The dulcet tones of her whispers seemed to soothe the beast and it stopped growling fiercely. Sayen then began to hum a lullaby often sung to the babes in her tribe while she checked over the bipedal wolf.
The creature shut it eyes as it listened while her hands gently shifted through its thick fur. It's ears swiveled to listen to her as she moved around it until she touched the tender spot and it growled. "Don't growl at me.... I'm not the one who stabbed you. This will sting." Then without further warning she grabbed and yanked a thin piece of metal from the creature who yowled with pain.
Growling with ears laid back, it rounded on her and Sayen glared coldly back. "I warned you you know. Now retract your claws or I'll shove it back in your wound..." Backing up slightly, it seemed confused before she shooed it off as she studied the now apparent blade.
((Sorry it's so long, I just kinda went with it. If it's not cool please let me know and I'll edit.))
Chessy glanced at the door, when the doctor stepped in. He didn´t know, who she was or what her occupation was. He was new in town after all. Never been to Saltypeak. From what he could tell she had a serious occupation. Something that took up a lot of her time judging by the dark circles under her eyes. She barely got any sleep and she didn´t seem to care much for her appearance. He faced the table again, looking into his tea. He took the last sip and emptied the cup, asking for another while doing so.
He didn´t pay attention to what the pretty woman in green was doing, much less the pokertable. But he did feel his hairs stand on the back of his neck. His instincts were pretty good and his senses stronger than the average person, though that didn´t show on him. He could feel eyes on the back of his head from the Agent Faulkner staring at him. Did he suspect anything? Or did he merely keep an eye on Chessy, because he was an odd stranger? He didn´t look at Charlotte, but he was listening. Medicine? Since when did alcohol count as medicine? Save if it was medicine for a broken heart, to drown the sorrows. But Chessy never drank alcohol or at least hadn´t been seen to do so.
Chessy was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, where he often wandered, when the doctor-woman spoke to him and gestured to his injured hand. He looked at his hand and back at her, sorting of pulling it to himself, unsure whether he could trust her or not. He looked her in the eyes as if he could see her intentions. Looked for the smallest signs that she was dangerous and unworthy of his trust. He slowly held out his hand for her to look at. "Pain is temporary," he muttered.
He didn´t pay attention to what the pretty woman in green was doing, much less the pokertable. But he did feel his hairs stand on the back of his neck. His instincts were pretty good and his senses stronger than the average person, though that didn´t show on him. He could feel eyes on the back of his head from the Agent Faulkner staring at him. Did he suspect anything? Or did he merely keep an eye on Chessy, because he was an odd stranger? He didn´t look at Charlotte, but he was listening. Medicine? Since when did alcohol count as medicine? Save if it was medicine for a broken heart, to drown the sorrows. But Chessy never drank alcohol or at least hadn´t been seen to do so.
Chessy was quickly pulled out of his thoughts, where he often wandered, when the doctor-woman spoke to him and gestured to his injured hand. He looked at his hand and back at her, sorting of pulling it to himself, unsure whether he could trust her or not. He looked her in the eyes as if he could see her intentions. Looked for the smallest signs that she was dangerous and unworthy of his trust. He slowly held out his hand for her to look at. "Pain is temporary," he muttered.
"Hmph," Charlotte grunted in response to the burned man's apparent indifference. He might have been new in town, but he was certainly going to fit in well with the rest of the idiots hell-bent on proving themselves the most masculine creatures in existence. If she had a dollar for every time a man refused treatment at the risk of looking "yeller," as they so quaintly put it, she could sell her practice and retire comfortably to the South Pacific.
At least the fellow seemed willing to cooperate for the moment. "You might think pain is only temporary," she continued, taking his hand in hers and looking the burn over closely. "But back when I was in medical school, I knew a man who got scratched by an alley cat. He didn't think he needed a doctor either, right up until the gangrene set in and we had to amputate. And you know what?" The doctor reached back into her bag with her right hand and began rummaging through, still holding his hand in her left.
"Even after we had buried the hand in a pit behind the clinic, the man still insisted it was hurting him. He even came into the clinic a few times insisting his fingers were stiff, only he didn't have those fingers anymore. As far as I know, that missing hand still troubles him to this day." From her bag, she pulled out first a small jar of some cloudy, whitish paste, then a small roll of gauze. "In your case, it looks like you should be all right. It's a bad first-degree burn, but not quite as bad as a second." Charlotte dropped his hand onto her lap, then opened the jar.
A strong medicinal smell emanated out as she scooped a small amount of the paste onto her fingers. "This might sting a little bit, but it'll sterilize the area. That's the important thing," she explained, gently massaging the salve onto the burn. With the wound sterilized, she began to wrap his hand in gauze, just loosely enough to allow freedom of movement. "There you go, all set. Just make sure you keep it clean, and it should heal up in a couple of days." She snipped off the end of the gauze, then finally released his hand.
"By the way, I'm Doctor Delacroix, the town physician," Charlotte introduced, pronouncing her name in the throaty French way. "What's your name?"
At least the fellow seemed willing to cooperate for the moment. "You might think pain is only temporary," she continued, taking his hand in hers and looking the burn over closely. "But back when I was in medical school, I knew a man who got scratched by an alley cat. He didn't think he needed a doctor either, right up until the gangrene set in and we had to amputate. And you know what?" The doctor reached back into her bag with her right hand and began rummaging through, still holding his hand in her left.
"Even after we had buried the hand in a pit behind the clinic, the man still insisted it was hurting him. He even came into the clinic a few times insisting his fingers were stiff, only he didn't have those fingers anymore. As far as I know, that missing hand still troubles him to this day." From her bag, she pulled out first a small jar of some cloudy, whitish paste, then a small roll of gauze. "In your case, it looks like you should be all right. It's a bad first-degree burn, but not quite as bad as a second." Charlotte dropped his hand onto her lap, then opened the jar.
A strong medicinal smell emanated out as she scooped a small amount of the paste onto her fingers. "This might sting a little bit, but it'll sterilize the area. That's the important thing," she explained, gently massaging the salve onto the burn. With the wound sterilized, she began to wrap his hand in gauze, just loosely enough to allow freedom of movement. "There you go, all set. Just make sure you keep it clean, and it should heal up in a couple of days." She snipped off the end of the gauze, then finally released his hand.
"By the way, I'm Doctor Delacroix, the town physician," Charlotte introduced, pronouncing her name in the throaty French way. "What's your name?"
Sydney quirked an eyebrow hearing the new man's response to his offer to join them. He was not sure what cats had to do with joining the men. However, with a small shrug of his shoulder's his eyes went towards the other newcomers. The first one to join them was a young woman wearing a green dress. His eye linger only for a very brief moment before returning his attention to the card game. Sydney's straight had the low card being a 5 so he won by having higher numbers.
"Good hand," Sydney said.
Sydney was content with the content and volume of his drink. There was still plenty more liquid to last a while during their games. Sydney was preparing for another game when another woman went into the saloon. More and more people were being drawn into whatever was happening within the town. The marshal kept an eye on the new woman as she looked over the new male's hand. It seemed like he had received some kind of injury before coming to Salty Peak.
A blur of moment caught his attention. The female in the green dress was dashing outside of the doors and into the streets. It was not safe for a woman to be rushing out into the night alone. Let alone with a creature on the loose. Sydney restrained himself from rolling his eyes. The marshal stood from his sear. He had no intention of letting the woman deal with whatever was making the howling sound coming from outside.
"How reckless," Sydney mumbled under his breath.
Sydney followed the woman outside of the saloon. He had briefly lost sight of her in the process. His eyes scanned the darkness and streets to find where she could have dashed off too. Sydney spotted her a short distance away. He was not familiar with skin walkers or what they were capable of. He moved slowly as he tried to see what the woman was doing with the creature.
"Is it safe?" he questioned the woman.
"Good hand," Sydney said.
Sydney was content with the content and volume of his drink. There was still plenty more liquid to last a while during their games. Sydney was preparing for another game when another woman went into the saloon. More and more people were being drawn into whatever was happening within the town. The marshal kept an eye on the new woman as she looked over the new male's hand. It seemed like he had received some kind of injury before coming to Salty Peak.
A blur of moment caught his attention. The female in the green dress was dashing outside of the doors and into the streets. It was not safe for a woman to be rushing out into the night alone. Let alone with a creature on the loose. Sydney restrained himself from rolling his eyes. The marshal stood from his sear. He had no intention of letting the woman deal with whatever was making the howling sound coming from outside.
"How reckless," Sydney mumbled under his breath.
Sydney followed the woman outside of the saloon. He had briefly lost sight of her in the process. His eyes scanned the darkness and streets to find where she could have dashed off too. Sydney spotted her a short distance away. He was not familiar with skin walkers or what they were capable of. He moved slowly as he tried to see what the woman was doing with the creature.
"Is it safe?" he questioned the woman.
((Roger that, Juls.))
Faulkner rises out of his seat at Sayen’s sudden departure, leaving Chessy and Doctor Delacroix to their business. He utters a curse under his breath—after all, he hasn’t settled in or geared up for work properly.
“Hell’s gotten into folks? Lookin’ to get eaten? C’mon, Frank,” the agent orders as he scoops up his bag (a weighty looking thing!) and slings it over a shoulder. Without fully awaiting the older man’s compliance, Faulkner marches off after Sydney and Sayen.
Faulkner rises out of his seat at Sayen’s sudden departure, leaving Chessy and Doctor Delacroix to their business. He utters a curse under his breath—after all, he hasn’t settled in or geared up for work properly.
“Hell’s gotten into folks? Lookin’ to get eaten? C’mon, Frank,” the agent orders as he scoops up his bag (a weighty looking thing!) and slings it over a shoulder. Without fully awaiting the older man’s compliance, Faulkner marches off after Sydney and Sayen.
"Thanks," the bounty hunter said to the woman, giving her a nickel as a tip for fetching the sarsaparilla. But he'd barely put the bottle to his lips when what sounded like a wolf howled and the woman ran from the saloon, followed by Sydney and then Faulkner.
Frank's brow furrowed in concern as he stood to follow, drawing his revolver from its holster as he rose, though he was careful with it, keeping his finger off the trigger, keeping it pointed at the floor as he hurried after the Agent, all the while cursing himself for rushing into a situation he knew little about.
"Keep an eye out here, huh? Make sure the doc there stays safe," he said to Bill and Dan, trusting them purely on the basis that they were cowboys.
He cast one worried glance back at the doctor and Chessy as they pushed open the swinging saloon doors. Maybe there was no reason to find the man troubling, but he couldn't shake the image of the man standing in the corner nervously, like he was waiting for something. The howl, perhaps?
As they came upon the scene only a few seconds after Sydney and spotted the bipedal wolf looking thing... it seemed clear enough what had been making the howling noises. Was the woman... helping it?
"What's it doin' here?" Frank demanded, revolver raising a little. But he didn't point it at the bipedal wolf since Sayen was in the way. He wouldn't risk accidentally shooting her. He wasn't a fan of regular wolves. And this monstrosity... well, it sure didn't look like it belonged in a place like Saltypeak.
Frank's brow furrowed in concern as he stood to follow, drawing his revolver from its holster as he rose, though he was careful with it, keeping his finger off the trigger, keeping it pointed at the floor as he hurried after the Agent, all the while cursing himself for rushing into a situation he knew little about.
"Keep an eye out here, huh? Make sure the doc there stays safe," he said to Bill and Dan, trusting them purely on the basis that they were cowboys.
He cast one worried glance back at the doctor and Chessy as they pushed open the swinging saloon doors. Maybe there was no reason to find the man troubling, but he couldn't shake the image of the man standing in the corner nervously, like he was waiting for something. The howl, perhaps?
As they came upon the scene only a few seconds after Sydney and spotted the bipedal wolf looking thing... it seemed clear enough what had been making the howling noises. Was the woman... helping it?
"What's it doin' here?" Frank demanded, revolver raising a little. But he didn't point it at the bipedal wolf since Sayen was in the way. He wouldn't risk accidentally shooting her. He wasn't a fan of regular wolves. And this monstrosity... well, it sure didn't look like it belonged in a place like Saltypeak.
Chessy didn´t really notice the doctor-womans hmph at him and didn´t think anything of him. He seemed pretty careless save for the fact that he seemed nervous and alert. Like he was a bit uncomfortable in this place. However, he still listened to her, when she spoke and looked at her as she took care of his injured hand, which apparantly Sydney hadn´t noticed till now. He listened to every word of her story, it was quite interesting. "I would like to have heard the cat´s defense," he mumbled, his words barely audible as he looked down. He seemed shy and sort of introvert. But he had changed ever since he left. He made a sort of hiss or growl, when she applied the paste, and frowned, but only for a moment. Then he straightened up and looked it over closely and carefully before he turned to the woman and gave her a Cheshire-cat grin. "No duty is more urgent than that of returning thanks," he said. "Delacroix," he said and spaced off a little. "What an odd name. I like it," he said quietly, but with a smile. "I am Cheshi-Chessy Hunter," he replied with an, if it were possible, an even wider smile.
Then suddenly he stopped as he heard the howling and people suddenly started leaving, scurrying out the door. The woman in green seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and it wasn´t soon after that the other mysterious and scary strangers followed her out. Something was wrong, and he could feel it. Whatever it was made his hairs stand up and he was much more rattled than before. "All is not right with the world. All is not right with the Saltypeaks," he whispered, but loud enough for the woman and the barkeep to hear.
((I hope it´s not too short))
Then suddenly he stopped as he heard the howling and people suddenly started leaving, scurrying out the door. The woman in green seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and it wasn´t soon after that the other mysterious and scary strangers followed her out. Something was wrong, and he could feel it. Whatever it was made his hairs stand up and he was much more rattled than before. "All is not right with the world. All is not right with the Saltypeaks," he whispered, but loud enough for the woman and the barkeep to hear.
((I hope it´s not too short))
The beast growling was the only warning she got as she turned towards the man that had followed. Brandishing the weapon, she narrowed her eyes before moving in front of the creature. Sensing it's anger, Sayen cooed softly before flicking her eyes at the other two. "Leave. You're presence is unsettling. I can handle myself."
Noticing the weapons, the creature barred its fangs as it glared from behind the woman. It was smart enough to realize they at least wouldn't attack while it was so close to her. "Put your weapons away. You're making it uneasy." Sayen flicked her eyes between the three men, keeping herself firmly planted in front of the skin walker.
She was unsure if they would listen but she didn't want the beast to attack and get killed. It may be strong but right now it was weak and she didn't think she could protect it. Her attention was pulled to a howl that sounded not terribly close but not terribly far either. The creature responded before looking back at the men and then at Sayen.
Raising to its full height is nearly 8 feet high it snarled and snapped its jaws before running off into the night. Sayen had been nervous and moved to continue blocking their line of fire. "Do not shoot! It means no harm!" Sayen huffed as she searched their faces, if someone was gonna shoot she'd make sure they hit her.
Noticing the weapons, the creature barred its fangs as it glared from behind the woman. It was smart enough to realize they at least wouldn't attack while it was so close to her. "Put your weapons away. You're making it uneasy." Sayen flicked her eyes between the three men, keeping herself firmly planted in front of the skin walker.
She was unsure if they would listen but she didn't want the beast to attack and get killed. It may be strong but right now it was weak and she didn't think she could protect it. Her attention was pulled to a howl that sounded not terribly close but not terribly far either. The creature responded before looking back at the men and then at Sayen.
Raising to its full height is nearly 8 feet high it snarled and snapped its jaws before running off into the night. Sayen had been nervous and moved to continue blocking their line of fire. "Do not shoot! It means no harm!" Sayen huffed as she searched their faces, if someone was gonna shoot she'd make sure they hit her.
Charlotte cracked a small smile at Chessy's remark about the cat. "If you can discern why cats do anything you're a cleverer person than I am," she remarked, packing away her supplies in the black bag. Conveniently, the barkeep returned with her requested bottles, and these too she somehow managed to pack into the bag, along with who knew what other odds and ends.
The doctor was not about to leave before finishing her coffee though (God knew she needed it), and she nodded politely at her patient's introduction. "A pleasure, Mr. Hunter," Charlotte replied politely as she drained her cup. "It seems you're possessed of an interesting nomenclature yourself. Chessy...is that French?"
It was at that time the doctor became aware of the swift exodus of several patrons of the bar. She had briefly noticed Sayen running out suddenly, but Charlotte had been so engrossed in treating Mr. Hunter's burn she hadn't thought too much of it. But then marshal ran out, followed by that supposed detective fellow everyone kept whispering about, and then the mangy-looking bounty hunter, though the lattermost had the foresight to charge a pair of even scrappier looking hangdogs to keep an eye on her, of all people.
"Don't trouble yourselves gentlemen, I've got a pair of secret service fellows ensuring no mean old critters steal my ointment," she muttered sarcastically, no longer bothering to hide her eye rolls. While it was true she kept a revolver in her bag and a shotgun in her house in case of trouble, the doctor had no interest in hunting down the monsters plaguing the town. She of all people knew if she wound up dead there'd be a clear shortage of surgeons to stitch back the other poor souls mauled by the beasts.
Instead she turned her attention back to the gentleman beside her. "You're quite right, Mr. Hunter. All is not right with the world, and particularly not-right with Saltypeaks. Which begs the question: what brings you to a place like this?" Charlotte asked, tilting her head slightly as she took a closer look at Chessy's face.
The doctor was not about to leave before finishing her coffee though (God knew she needed it), and she nodded politely at her patient's introduction. "A pleasure, Mr. Hunter," Charlotte replied politely as she drained her cup. "It seems you're possessed of an interesting nomenclature yourself. Chessy...is that French?"
It was at that time the doctor became aware of the swift exodus of several patrons of the bar. She had briefly noticed Sayen running out suddenly, but Charlotte had been so engrossed in treating Mr. Hunter's burn she hadn't thought too much of it. But then marshal ran out, followed by that supposed detective fellow everyone kept whispering about, and then the mangy-looking bounty hunter, though the lattermost had the foresight to charge a pair of even scrappier looking hangdogs to keep an eye on her, of all people.
"Don't trouble yourselves gentlemen, I've got a pair of secret service fellows ensuring no mean old critters steal my ointment," she muttered sarcastically, no longer bothering to hide her eye rolls. While it was true she kept a revolver in her bag and a shotgun in her house in case of trouble, the doctor had no interest in hunting down the monsters plaguing the town. She of all people knew if she wound up dead there'd be a clear shortage of surgeons to stitch back the other poor souls mauled by the beasts.
Instead she turned her attention back to the gentleman beside her. "You're quite right, Mr. Hunter. All is not right with the world, and particularly not-right with Saltypeaks. Which begs the question: what brings you to a place like this?" Charlotte asked, tilting her head slightly as she took a closer look at Chessy's face.
Sydney had his rifle in his hands but it was not directly pointed towards the creature towering over them. With a careful hand he pointed it more towards the ground. The marshal was not going to put the weapon away entirely. He knew that the situation could change at a moment's notice. Sydney glanced to see of the others had their guns pointed towards it. It would not be long before the creature would run off into the night. His eyes went towards the woman who seemed to be defending it.
"How can you be certain?"
Sydney wanted to make sure it would not be a threat. He did not want the blood of innocents on his hands. If that creature attacked and killed the villagers he would blame himself for having let the thing escape. However, his eyes watched the woman with a hard stare. She did not seem willing to let them harm the beast. There was no telling how she would respond if they were to try and take it out.
"Did you know them?"
If the creature could be identified it would be easier to place in trust in her judgment. He wanted a way to keep the peace and protect the people. Sydney would be failing in his job as a marshal if he could not handle something as basic as this. He made no immediate moves to try and shoot the beast as it made it's way further outside of the town limits.
"How can you be certain?"
Sydney wanted to make sure it would not be a threat. He did not want the blood of innocents on his hands. If that creature attacked and killed the villagers he would blame himself for having let the thing escape. However, his eyes watched the woman with a hard stare. She did not seem willing to let them harm the beast. There was no telling how she would respond if they were to try and take it out.
"Did you know them?"
If the creature could be identified it would be easier to place in trust in her judgment. He wanted a way to keep the peace and protect the people. Sydney would be failing in his job as a marshal if he could not handle something as basic as this. He made no immediate moves to try and shoot the beast as it made it's way further outside of the town limits.
((Whoops, sorry for a delay; this got lost in my notifications.))
By the time the impromptu hunting party relocates Sayen and the skinwalker, Faulkner has dug a pistol out from his suit pockets. It’s not the hunting rile he’d prefer (which is tightly locked up in his luggage), but it would have to do.
He smartly keeps the weapon pointed away from Sayen and the creature—for now.
“...well now, isn’t this a sight,” the agent quietly marvels at the beast. Skinwalkers are genuinely something of a mystery to the man—their study and documentation isn’t something the Bureau has had the privilege of learning just yet.
By the time the impromptu hunting party relocates Sayen and the skinwalker, Faulkner has dug a pistol out from his suit pockets. It’s not the hunting rile he’d prefer (which is tightly locked up in his luggage), but it would have to do.
He smartly keeps the weapon pointed away from Sayen and the creature—for now.
“...well now, isn’t this a sight,” the agent quietly marvels at the beast. Skinwalkers are genuinely something of a mystery to the man—their study and documentation isn’t something the Bureau has had the privilege of learning just yet.
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